


though it won't change the world, you'll be more inclined

by aceofdiamonds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofdiamonds/pseuds/aceofdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wakes up in Seamus's body. Of course it was unresolved feelings that got him here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	though it won't change the world, you'll be more inclined

**Author's Note:**

> A bodyswap fic that got unexpectedly angsty and sort of hero-worshippy?
> 
> Set during HBP.

Harry wakes up at half seven, like usual. He refuses to open his eyes for at least another two minutes, like usual. He stretches, like usual. And then, he reaches for his glasses on the bedside table, like usual.

But his glasses aren’t there.

He gets up and pulls his curtain back to ask Ron if he’s seen them anywhere, but when he looks to his right Dean is in Ron’s bed and Ron is not.

“Dean?” he tries, because he needs his glasses and Dean is second best to help after Ron (actually, he’s probably first best because Ron is hopeless in the morning, but Best Friend Status). “You seen my glasses, mate?”

Dean opens one eye, stares blearily at Harry, and then shuts it again. “You don’t wear glasses, Shay.”

Shay? But that’s – that’s Seamus’s nickname.

And then – Harry tries speaking again; apprehension growing in his stomach. “Okay, thanks, Dean.”

He’s Irish. But he’s not Irish. Seamus is Irish.

It falls together then. Sort of.

Harry is Seamus.

But then who is Harry?

“Bloody fuck! Why can’t I fucking see?”

The swearing comes from two beds to the right: Harry’s bed, and it’s in Harry’s voice. A sheen of sweat covers him, leaving him shivering in his – Seamus’s – boxers. He’s been through a lot, and still has a lot to go, but there’s something chilling and just plain weird about hearing your own voice coming from another person.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Ron says, suddenly completely awake and on edge because he knows Harry, he needs to look after Harry (that Best Friend Status again).

“Harry” comes stumbling round the corner of the beds. If hearing his voice was weird holy shit. He watches on horrified as his body grabs the post of Dean’s bed then groans. “I can’t see!”

“Put your glasses on, idiot.” Ron says, looking disgruntled at being woken earlier for something so trivial. “Here.” He shoves them into Seamus’s hand and Seamus stares at them in bewilderment. “But these –“

“Just put them for Christ’s sake.” Harry says, sharply, and then Seamus looks up to see Harry in his body and almost faints, his skin gaining a green tinge.

“Wha –“ He puts the glasses on, holding his hands out in front of his face, seeing them clearly for the first time. Harry tries not to roll his eyes.

Ron looks concerned, and even Neville is up now, hovering near Seamus unhelpfully. “Are you okay, Harry?”

Harry coughs so Seamus meets his gaze and shakes his head imperceptibly; they’ll discuss it later. Alone.

“Ye – Yeah I’m fine. Just felt a bit nervous about this Quidditch game coming up, eh.”

“You mean the one that’s in six weeks?” Ron rests a hand on Seamus’s shoulder, trying to peer at him.  Harry stifles a laugh.

“Just being prepared. Good captain and that.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast.” Harry says to Dean once they’re all dressed (Harry tries not ogle Seamus’s body too much because he wouldn’t want Seamus to look at his but come on this is Seamus of course he’s going to ogle, because maybe, possibly, Harry has had a thing for Seamus for a couple of months now so maybe he doesn’t really try at all. He’s very impressed with what he sees; it makes him blush a little), “Just need to talk to Harry for a minute.”

Dean shrugs and, thankfully, so does Ron, Neville following the two of them down to the common room.

Seamus is on Harry the second the door swings shut, gripping his shoulders and leaning in close. Harry’s breath hitches; it’s impossible given the circumstances, but he thinks if he stares into his own eyes enough he can see the bright blue of Seamus’s shining out.

“Harry, why the fuck am I you? What in the name of Merlin is going on?” Seamus scrubs a hand through his hair, and now Harry can see why people are always nagging him to do something about it. It’s a mess.

"How am I supposed to know?!" Harry replies, "I woke up a minute before you did!"

Seamus grits his teeth, staring at a spot just above Harry's head. Harry supposes it must be quite weird for Seamus to see himself too, especially since he can't see properly at all anymore. 

"We need to fix this." he says, because stating the obvious is better than saying nothing at all. Also, he likes this accent; it’s so much more interesting.

Clearly, Seamus doesn't agree. "Yeah? I think I want to stay trapped in someone else's body forever actually." 

Harry steps away from Seamus and starts pacing, round and round.  
  
"I'll think of an idea... Just. Give me a few hours, okay." Harry snaps; it _isn’t_ his fault. 

“Should we tell anyone? Shouldn’t Dumbledore know?”

Harry shakes his head. “Dumbledore has enough on his plate without this.” He stops his pacing and looks at Seamus, still not shaking the weird feeling at watching himself pull his cloak on. “We’ll go to each other’s classes and act like everything is normal okay?”

Seamus stops looking so angry then, and tilts his head to smile at Harry sadly. “Nothing’s ever normal for you is it, Harry?”

Harry shrugs off the pity. “This isn’t the weirdest. Believe me. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Yeah. Good luck.” Seamus picks up the wand on Harry’s bedside table. “Wait – Harry, what’ll we do about our wands?”

Oh.

“Uh... I better take yours. Easier to pretend everything’s as it should be.” Harry doesn’t really want Seamus’s wand; it’s shorter and thicker and he misses the way his own feels in his hand but it’ll have to do.

They part in the Great Hall, Harry going to sit with Dean and Neville while Seamus wanders off to find Ron and Hermione.

 

It’s kind of funny being Seamus. It’s a relief, too. People don’t look at him like he’s going to break, like he’s a liar, like they’re scared of him. They treat him like they do everyone else, they laugh at the jokes he says, the things he can get away with now he’s not The Boy Who Lived.

See, people think that Harry can get away with everything because he’s Dumbledore’s Golden Boy but while he’s saving the world he’s missing out on everything else, and being funny, flirty, cute Seamus Finnigan for a day gives him a chance to catch up.

“You sure you’re alright, Shay?” Dean asks him, again, in Transfiguration.

Harry starts. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He keeps looking over at Seamus who’s looking out of his depth with Hermione and Ron on either side of him arguing over the top of his head. He wonders what today’s argument is about; something stupid as usual.

“You just seem –“ Dean shakes his head, smiling. “ you’ve been distracted lately. You seem happier today, that’s all.”

He manages to stay casual, somehow, and wink at Dean, “If happiness is a crime send me to Azkaban.”

Dean rolls his eyes. No one takes Seamus seriously; Harry loves it.

 

They meet at lunch as planned. They wave off Ron, Hermione and Dean with “Homework. We won’t bother you” meaning _don’t bother us_.

“Jesus, Ron and Hermione need to get a room.” Seamus groans, resting his head on the table, missing his bacon by an inch. “Do they ever stop fighting?”

“Not really.” Harry laughs, cautiously patting Seamus’s shoulder.

Seamus groans again, causing people to look over at them in alarm. Harry waves them off, rolling his eyes as if to say it’s only Seamus (except it’s actually Harry, and people are too invested in his life so they stare a couple of seconds more until Harry glares at them – Seamus can be fierce too, apparently).

“How’re you coping? Must be your dream come true being me for the day.”

“You could say that. How is it being “The Chosen One”?”

Seamus lifts his head to look at Harry and it’s that look of pity again, the one that Harry has gotten used to from everyone else but not from Seamus. Seamus has always treated him just like anyone else, Harry thinks it’s maybe why he likes him as more than a friend, but now he’s gotten the chance to be Harry and he’s started behaving like everyone else.

“It’s okay. I mean – it’s you. I’ve always known how great you are but, like. Nothing’s even happened today but everyone looks at me like their lives depend on me. How do you stand that every day?” Seamus’s – well, Harry’s – eyes are wide, looking so confused as to how Harry manages to be Harry every single day.

He shrugs. “You learn to live with it, I guess.”

“Well, now that I understand how it feels to even be looked at different, I’ll definitely support you more. Sorry if I haven’t been, you know, the best help in the past.” Seamus rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable about their falling out last year.

Harry smiles, touched. “Thanks, Seamus.”

“I can’t get over how fucking weird this is. How the fuck are we going to fix it?” It ruins the moment, if Harry is being honest.

The answer comes to Harry then – how had it not before now? It’s sitting down the table from them, reading a book whilst simultaneously bickering with Ron about Merlin knows what.

 

“It’s obvious, really.” Hermione says after all of thirty seconds, looking between Harry and Seamus.

“Well it isn’t.” Harry argues, just to be stubborn, because he and Seamus have been trying to work out what’s wrong all day and suddenly Hermione has the “blindingly obvious” answer. It’s tiring being friends with Hermione.

Ron looks over from where he’s sprawled on the couch. “Come on, mate, you know everything’s clear as bloody day to Hermione.”

“Maybe if you picked up a book for once in your life, Ron –“

Seamus rolls his eyes at Harry.

“Hermione, not to push you or anything, but do you think you could maybe tell us how to change back?” Seamus says, delicately. “Only, I don’t want to be stuck looking like this forever. I have a reputation to uphold, eh.”

Hermione sniffs, but refrains from replying to Ron. “I can’t say why you’ve been swapped, exactly; maybe it was something you drank?”

It’s all coming together now: last night Seamus and Dean had a bottle of what they claimed was the finest made elf mead but Merlin knows what it actually was. Harry had been conned into a drinking game with the pair of them and had somehow ended up drinking the most.

Seamus has come to the same conclusion judging by the look on his face – comprehension then guilt and finally a sheepish grin. Harry shrugs, not annoyed; it hasn’t been the worst day.

“But Dean had some too.”  Seamus says, frowning. “Why is he not one of us or something?”

“Well...” Hermione blushes and looks at the table, “if this is the same as the other cases it’s because unresolved feelings are involved.”

Fuck.

“Eh?!” Ron rolls over and falls off the edge of the couch to stare at Harry and Seamus, both who are flushed and looking equally uncomfortable.

“Uh...” Seamus tries. Harry can’t even get that far. This thing he has for Seamus, this crush, it was never meant to come to anything, he was going to keep it locked up inside him forever, and now this has made it real and unavoidable and it’s not that he’s ashamed of it but Seamus can’t look at him.

Harry swallows. “And – Um. How would we change back then, if that were the case?”

Hermione’s looking at him like she knows everything; Harry both loves her and hates her in that moment. She smiles at him, don’t be so worried, and blushes again as she mumbles, “Well what always happens at the end of a fairy tale?”

Harry wants to say this isn’t his idea of a fairy tale but Seamus cuts across him, smirking and clearly back in control of his emotions – whatever they are – unlike Harry. “The big kiss.”

Ron snorts, and looks at Harry as if to say bad luck mate when actually it’s really really good luck.

“Right.” Harry says, getting on his knees and gesturing for Seamus to do the same which he does with a glint in his eye, his smirk growing. “Well I don’t want to be stuck as Seamus forever, God help me.”

“Oi. I’ve been known to attract many many people, Potter. Being you isn’t exactly a picnic; having to put up with those two and their stupid sexual tension.” Seamus says with a laugh.

“Hey –“ Ron and Hermione say together.

But then Seamus grabs Harry’s tie and yanks him closer, slanting their mouths together and shoving his tongue in Harry’s mouth. Harry keens, shocked that this is actually happening, that he is actually kissing Seamus Finnigan, before kissing back, sliding his tongue alongside Seamus’s and resting a hand at the back of Seamus’s neck, suppressing a shudder at feeling his own hair there.

They’re kissing lazily, pulling back every now and then to smile or roll their eyes at the audience they’ve gathered, because they’re doing this for their own benefit now just as much as they are to right the body swap. Each time they break away Harry gets a jolt when he looks into his own eyes and sees the shit-eating grin on his own face, an expression that is completely Seamus.

And then, when Harry is starting to panic at how tight his trousers are getting, a spark runs through both of them, one that makes Harry clutch at Seamus and kiss him harder, and the next time they pull away Harry is looking into Seamus’s blue eyes that are crinkled at the corners as he grins at Harry, relieved that he’s not looking at himself anymore.

“You’d do anything to get me kiss you, wouldn’t you, Harry?” Seamus grins, his hands on Harry’s shoulders and his breath warm on Harry’s lips. “Spells.” He scoffs. “You only had to ask.”

Harry laughs, feeling like he’s already defeated Voldemort, like everything is right in the world. “You know nothing’s easy for me.” 

“Always have to be a drama queen, don’t you?”

Which is the biggest case of pot-calling-kettle-black Harry thinks he’s ever heard, but he just rolls his eyes and kisses Seamus again then allows himself to be pulled up to the staircase to their dorm, ignoring the wolf-whistles and cat-calls on their way past.

He’s liked his day of being Seamus, it was a nice change from being Harry: The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, The Leader of the Lost World, any other titles anyone feels like throwing at him. But now, with Seamus straddling him, his tongue in his mouth and his hands on Harry's chest, being Harry is pretty good.. 


End file.
